Inchoation
by Fala-Li
Summary: Several years after the end of the Fourth Great War, Yamato discovers that the person who dragged him back from the brink of death was none other than the pink-haired medic on his team. It's one of the many intricacies that he discovers about Sakura as their path diverges beyond friendship leads them to new places. (Inchoation: a beginning, origin.) [Yamato X Sakura]
1. Prologue - Genesis

**Prologue - Genesis**

_(an origin, creation or beginning)_

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_Three years ago_

_Post-Conclusion of the Fourth Great War_

The medical team accompanying her had left hours ago.

At this point in time, Sakura was too tired to put any effort into being angry about it. Her exhaustion seemed to reach into her bones, making standing a difficult and conscious effort. But all of the fatigue was shoved back into the farther recesses of her mind as she concentrated on the task at hand.

His skin was colder to her touch than it should have been.

It wasn't a good sign.

Her analysis of the state of his physical body was not as complete as she wished it could have been, but it was thorough enough to point out more bad signs. His chakra levels were severely depleted – quite possibly absent. She wasn't ready to consider what it might mean if his chakra levels were completely drained.

"Give it up," a voice spoke close by, although in her deep level of concentration, it sounded faint and far away. "You can't remove him from that suspension without killing him. Go home, and let your family know you survived the war."

Sakura's unconscious mind filled in details; the voice belonged to a jonin she roughly estimated to be somewhere above the age of forty. His statement was weary and resigned, and somewhat fatherly in its delivery, but she had no time for parental concern.

It had never been her intention to dignify the comment with a response, so it came as somewhat of a surprise when a familiar voice deigned to reply in her place.

"You can attempt to dissuade her until you're blue in the face, but she won't stop trying until he's out of there," came Sai's calm voice, soft but deep. Even as she continued to concentrate on the chakra she extended beyond her fingertips, Sakura felt a small wave of relief wash over her at his presence.

Out of her line of sight, the older jonin wrinkled his nose. "Why? He was as good as dead the second that Kabuto got his hands on him. Even the Hokage wouldn't be able to do anything for him now."

Silence stretched out for a moment until Sai formulated his reply. "Because Yamato-senpai is an important member of our team," he explained slowly, as if never having rehearsed the words before, pausing to examine the unnaturally fatigued slant to Sakura's posture. "And our team is our family. And we don't leave family behind."

Although it was probably undetectable to most, Sakura heard the hesitation in his voice that revealed he was somewhat uncertain of his own conclusion.

Without lowering her arms, she turned her head to smile at him, meeting his dark eyes and feeling relief at the obvious healthy pallor to his features. "Sai," she acknowledged, fondness leaking through her tone.

He stepped closer to her, and when a similarly attired male followed Sai's advance, Sakura took a moment to truly notice him. A bit taller than Sai, his pale brown hair was also short-cropped, and bright green eyes peered at her with a hint of respect that she was left to wonder how she had earned.

"This is another former member of Root. He was trained in advanced sealing techniques also, but his area of expertise differed from mine. I thought he might be able to assist you."

Sakura was sure that there were very few moments in her life where she was suddenly awash in such a large wave of gratitude such as the one she felt now. Unbidden, a tear slipped down one cheek; she dashed it away impatiently, a shaky smile on her face.

"Hello," Sai's acquaintance - whom she had never seen let alone met before – said to her, a tiny hint of a smile on his features as he closed the rest of the distance between them and stood at her side. "I've never had this one ask me for a favor before. I was surprised, to say the least."

Sakura found herself at a loss for words; her mouth worked for a minute, but the exhaustion combined with the intense mixture of emotions she was feeling prevented her from being able to articulate her thanks.

The young man seemed to understand her unspoken sentiments. His smile widened slightly, and he nodded before turning his focus to the unconscious figure suspended in the cavern wall before them. He raised his own hands to the mysterious wall, and Sakura finally allowed herself to lower hers now that someone else was attending to the matter.

She kept silent while the ANBU whose name she didn't know concentrated on the task at hand, and Sai watched as Sakura unconsciously gnawed on her lip, a nervous habit that didn't escape his notice.

It was very likely rude to ask for someone's help without asking their name, but now was hardly the time for introductions.

Although it was probably only a few minutes, the time seemed to stretch out and loom in front of Sakura endlessly until he finally dropped his hands and turned to her.

"I believe I know how to undo the sealing and get him out," he started slowly, his words paced, alluding to what would come next. Sakura felt a hot rush of tears well up in her eyes at the relief that his words brought, but she swallowed and forced herself to save them for later. "However, the only thing keeping this man alive is the sealing technique that he has been suspended in. It appears to be acting as a type of life support. Once he is removed from it, he will likely go into cardiac arrest."

"I can handle it," she replied softly, and he took a moment to digest the determined gleam to her eyes before he continued.

"That isn't all. As I presume you can see, his chakra levels are basically undetectable. Whatever has been done to him appears to have drained massive amounts of his chakra. It's likely that this sealing technique has been feeding his internal organs the necessary chakra to sustain them; once we remove him, he may also go into multi-organ failure."

Closing her eyes, Sakura drew a deep, unwavering breath. "Do it. Please," she added, hoping that her tone didn't sound ungrateful. "Sai?"

The dark-haired man swiftly came closer to her until she could feel him at her left shoulder, his body heat radiating off of his chest and warming her arm almost instantly.

"Be ready to catch him and lower him to the ground," she instructed briskly. Sai watched as she deftly withdrew a tie from her pocket and pulled her hair back into some semblance of a bun, her face suddenly morphing into something he recognized too well as her medic facade.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" she asked the other Root member.

Something undetectable was reflected in the stranger's eyes as he seemed to examine her, take her measure. "I won't need any help getting him out. Once he's out, however, it will all be up to you. I'm afraid my expertise doesn't stray into the medical field."

"Get him out of there," Sakura spoke gently, her words carrying an unmistakable weight, "and I'll be eternally grateful."

He took a moment longer to stare at her before breaking her gaze. When he finally did, he gave her a satisfied, short smile and a nod before clasping his hands together. Faster than her eyes could follow, he performed an onslaught of hand seals, brows knit together in concentration. Following the last hand seal, he abruptly extended one hand forward to slam into the wall beside the person suspended horizontally inside of it.

With a _splurch_ing sound, the wall suddenly began to expel its occupant from his entombment. Sai learned forward, grasping the man's shoulders and waiting until his knees finally were free to start lowering him to the ground as gently as possible.

Sakura barely waited for his feet to be expelled before she gathered chakra into her hands and put them to his chest, kneeling down next to him.

Their assessments had been correct; it was immediately apparent to her that he was in cardiac arrest.

Yamato looked so lifeless that she felt her heart seize up and seemingly contract within her chest. Without a moment's hesitation, she sent a shock of her chakra directly to his heart, attempting to jolt the cardiac muscles into responding and beating on their own.

The first attempt was unsuccessful, and she continued to send waves of charka shocks to his heart while simultaneously extending a separate stream through his body to assess the condition of his other organs.

They hadn't shut down, yet, but they would. Sai's former comrade had been correct in his assumption; the chakra that had been helping to sustain thousands of Zetsu clones had left Yamato's body terribly depleted, without enough to maintain his own bodily functioning.

Sakura knew in that instant that medical chakra was not going to be enough to revive him.

Jade eyes swung up to the two men quietly observing her, hands never ceasing their task as they sent waves of energy to his heart in her best attempt to keep his blood circulating adequately to his brain and body.

She could hope that neither of them were well-versed enough in medical jutsu to realize that what she was about to do wasn't medical jutsu at all.

Although she had observed it first-hand twice, Sakura had never attempted it before in the field or otherwise. But if there was ever a time to employ forbidden jutsu that she wasn't supposed to know in the first place, she figured that it would be now.

Without hesitation, her hands formed the seals and began to pump her own life-force into Yamato's body, as Chiyo had once done to her.

If the pink-haired woman was good at anything, it was control. She wouldn't give him enough of her life-force to kill her as it had done to Chiyo when she had revived Gaara; the devastation done to the Kazekage's body had been far more detrimental than the damage to Yamato's body.

The effects were almost immediate. Abruptly, the shocks of chakra to his heart became redundant as it began to beat on its own, faintly at first but growing with intensity as she continued to flush his chakra pathways with her life energy.

With fascination, she looked on as Yamato's cells were stimulated by her life-force into producing their own chakra once again.

When his heart beat a steady, even rhythm, she released the jutsu, satisfied with the progress that his body was now making. The sudden fleeing of her vision and the wave of dizziness was unexpected; she felt herself teeter backwards, only to come up against a warm, familiar chest that supported her back while gentle arms gripped her waist.

For a moment Sakura closed her eyes and rested with her back pressed against Sai's front.

After all of her hard work, she refused to pass out before ensuring that the results were adequate. Opening fatigued eyes, she reached out for Yamato's hand.

It was warmer than her own, now, and as she reached a few fingers around his wrist to check his radial pulse, she felt a huge lump forming in her throat at its healthy cadence. His skin had a healthier, richer tone to it.

When she finally looked up, Sakura met the bright eyes of Sai's acquaintance. "I don't know how I can ever repay you," she told him, finally giving up at holding back the tears and letting them fall unbidden down her cheeks. She felt a few slip off of her chin and splatter onto Yamato's hand. Given his previous condition, she figured he wouldn't mind a little salt-water.

The ANBU member smiled down at her, a curious tilt to his lips that suggested the woman before him was a puzzle that he hadn't quite been able to solve. "There's no need."

The unnamed man's eyes shifted to Sai, and that was the last thing Sakura saw as she started to fade out of consciousness. Strong, steady arms wrapped around her back and under her legs, lifting her and tucking her against a broad chest.

"Now I see why you would ask me for a favor for the first time in your life," the man spoke to Sai in a muted tone that still managed to reach Sakura's fading ears, "for her."

Sakura wanted to ask that if Sai was carrying her, who would carry Yamato? But her body was limp, somehow existing as if feeling featherless and yet too heavy to lift a limb or open her mouth.

Sai's reply never registered as she slipped fully out of consciousness.

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_Five Weeks and Two Days Later_

_Konoha Hospital_

After more than a month of being dead to the world, the first thing that reached Yamato's ears was a rather unpleasant feminine screech that almost made him wish he could go back to sleep. But he awoke nonetheless with a strange, heavy feeling, as if he had severely overslept.

Confusion racked his mind as he tried to remember what had happened in his last waking moments. Nothing came to mind, and as frantic thumping noises and a panicked girl's voice clamored in the background, he struggled to fully drag himself into consciousness.

The hospital room came into focus after he blinked a few times to clear up thick, bleary eyes. A figure moved into his range of vision, easily recognizable by the shock of long, platinum blond hair.

"Oh my god, you're awake!" the boisterous blond proclaimed, and Yamato couldn't help but wince at the unrestrained volume of Ino's voice. "The nurse is on her way. Sakura is going to _kill _me, you know! She's going to be furious that she was gone when you woke up."

Had he been able to find his voice quickly enough, Yamato might have voiced his question of how on earth he could be held responsible for when he woke up as if it were a choice.

Sitting up was somewhat of a struggle, but Yamato did it slowly and carefully, leaning backwards and breathing deeply. "How did I get here?" he asked instead, fighting the grogginess.

"Kabuto took you," Ino stated, pulling a chair close to his bedside and plopping down on it, ponytail swishing with her motions, "We took you back. End of story!"

As his dark eyes slowly passed over the room and its contents, they landed on a crystal vase full of fresh flowers and stopped to examine them, wondering who had brought them. In Ino's presence, the unspoken question became relatively short-lived.

"They're from Sakura," she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest. "She buys fresh ones twice a week for you. Normally she picks them up and brings them herself, but she's gone on a short mission, so she asked me to do it for her."

As she spoke, Yamato factored in certain phrases that hinted at the fact that his stay in the hospital had not been short. "How long?"

Yamato watched her fidget for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with having to answer the question. "Over a month," she finally admitted. "You were in pretty bad shape. I hear you almost died. You were very lucky."

His silence following her statement was almost deafening, and Ino wiggled restlessly until she couldn't help but fill in some noise.

"Do you want to know what they mean?" she asked him, and his drooping but somehow intent eyes rose up to meet her own, brows furrowing slightly. "The flowers," the blond hastily added. "Sakura picked them out herself, you know. They teach us these things in the academy."

He didn't object, so she hopped back up onto her feet and approached the flowers, touching them with a fond hand as she explained.

"Peonies for _healing_, geraniums to signify _comfort_. Hydrangeas for _perseverance_, pink tulips for _caring_, and pansies for _loving thoughts_. I was impressed; forehead really was paying attention in those classes."

Before she could continue, two purposeful figures rushed in through the doorway. The Hokage's green overcoat trailed behind her as she entered swiftly and methodically, a harried nurse at her side.

Realizing that she was crowding the hospital room and that her presence was now redundant, Ino took her leave. As she exited their line of sight, she couldn't help but notice that despite the fact that Tsunade had started talking to Yamato, his eyes still remained fixed on the vase of flowers on the stand beside his bed.


	2. Chapter 1 - Revelation

**Chapter 1 - Revelation**

_(something revealed or disclosed - especially a striking disclosure_

_- something before not realized)_

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**_Three Years Post Fourth Great War_**

**_Konoha_**

If super-strength ever came in handy in a civilian setting, it would definitely be when carrying groceries. As Sakura shifted the heavy plastic bags into a comfortable grip and exited the store, boosting a little extra chakra into her arms to enhance their weight-carrying capacity, her eyes came to rest on a particular figure.

Even though the streets were crowded, his form stuck out to her like a sore thumb. That was what familiarity did, she supposed, after so many years of working together.

His shoulders were a bit more slumped than usual, bespeaking of his exhaustion. If she wasn't mistaken, she could spot a small, stray leaf wedged in his short brown hair.

"Yamato-taichou!" she called out without hesitation. Despite the significant distance separating them, his progression forward halted as he reacted to her voice, pausing to pivot and face her. As she trotted up to him, the bags swaying in her hands, Sakura couldn't help but note the visible signs that he had just returned from a mission.

Various scrapes and cuts marred his normally pristine skin. His flak jacket was torn and dusty, and a few jagged slices were visible in his uniform. From the haggard look of his features, she could tell it had been an exhausting trip, but he still found the energy to smile warmly down at her.

"Rough mission?" Sakura asked, returning his smile and finally stopping a short but comfortable distance away from him, within arm's reach.

"In a matter of speaking," Yamato replied with a desperate chuckle, and Sakura took a moment to peek at the contents of the small plastic bag he was carrying. "Not particularly dangerous...for the most part." He muttered the last part under his breath, but she missed the hint of amusement in the mumble.

Something else had captured her immediate attention anyway.

A familiar label seemed to shout out at her through the semi-transparent bag. "Is that instant ramen?!" The words slipped out of her mouth before she could help it. Somehow, Naruto's signature food seemed so out of place in her team captain's hands that containing the outburst was impossible.

Chuckling, Yamato raised his free hand to scrub at the back of his head. "Guilty as charged," he admitted freely. "It was a long mission. I'm pretty wiped, so I grabbed a quick-fix."

The bags in Sakura's hand suddenly seemed a bit heavier, as if reminding her of the fact that they were there and full of raw ingredients. One more look at his disheveled, clearly exhausted appearance was all the medic inside of her could take before she began to formulate a plan of action.

Rectifying her position so that she stood beside him instead of in front of him, Sakura shot him a bright smile that betrayed a hint of the nagging to come. With a playful bump, her smaller arm nudged his.

"You can't eat that nutritionless junk," she told him, inclining her head forward in a motion that told him to walk with her. He fixed her with a curious look, uncertain of her meaning.

Seeing that she needed to elaborate, she sighed. "I was planning on cooking tonight anyway. I always make more than I can eat. Join me?"

As his dark, almond-shaped eyes examined her expression, her pale eyes shot him a determined glare.

"Let me rephrase," she amended. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. Eating a paltry excuse for a meal consisting of processed carbohydrates loaded with empty calories isn't going to cut it; you need some actual nutrients in your food. Your mitochondria are going to rebel if all you provide them with for cellular respiration is _ramen_, you know."

Yamato imagined that if her hands weren't occupied, she would be standing in the street with her hands on her hips, jade eyes flashing and an impatient tilt to her head.

The medical jargon might have gone right over his head, but the general point was loud and clear.

It wasn't the first time that she'd scolded him over the years that they'd been working together. Even in the beginning, he hadn't been offended by the apparent insubordination on her part, because he knew what the underlying cause was – a big heart full of more compassion and concern than most people dared to have in their lifetime.

If she hadn't learned to be assertive, she never would've survived this far – certainly not on Team Seven. Now, it was familiar, almost comforting. There were worse things in the world than knowing that a woman cared enough about a man's wellbeing to publicly nag him.

It had quickly become clear to him that Sakura had an enormous conscience to go with that big heart, and he knew he'd feel guilty if he allowed her sense of compassion guilt her into cooking him dinner.

"I don't want to impose," he replied, mentally kissing a home-cooked meal goodbye.

For a moment, she examined him with a sideways glance from the corner of her eyes. He wondered, briefly, if an eruption of anger might occur anytime soon at his refusal.

"Sorry," the soft, far-too-innocent sounding words came from beside him, "it got so loud here on the street for a minute I didn't hear you. I _think _you said, 'Well, I'd better come along for dinner, if only to keep my mitochondria happy,' but it wasn't clear enough to make it out."

His lips twitched, and just like that it was evident that their debate was over. Holding out one large, empty hand, he waited patiently for her to examine it strangely before bringing her eyes back to his face.

"For the mitochondria, then," he replied, motioning to the bags that she was gripping unconsciously when his outstretched hand remained empty.

It took so long for her to register the gesture that Yamato started to wonder if maybe Sakura had worked an extremely long shift at the hospital, draining her mental processing capabilities. But finally, the light bulb went off, and with an uncertain twist of her lips, she extended the grocery bags she had been holding in his direction.

When he had them settled in his own hands and she still continued to stare at him as if something very strange had just occurred, Yamato had to wonder if anyone else ever bothered to help her carry things.

Well, there were many things that he could teach Sai and Naruto, but he had never promised anyone that they included manners. Some things, after all, were far beyond his teaching capabilities.

***o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o***

Just as the grocery bags had touched the kitchen counter, Yamato had to reach behind him to catch the rapidly approaching projectile aimed at the back of his head. When something soft hit his hands, he brought it forward to examine it.

With a fluffy towel in his hands, he turned around and raised his eyebrows at Sakura. She was grinning sheepishly at him.

"Just making sure your reflexes aren't getting dull," she quipped. "Dinner is going to take me a while, so you might as well take a shower in the meantime. No offense, but you kind of look like you could use one."

His protest that he wasn't in that bad of shape died in his throat as his eyes roamed over the dust-covered clothing covering skin that was likely layered in it as well.

"Second doorway on the left," Sakura instructed, pointing down the hallway. "Help yourself to anything you want."

By the time Yamato reemerged, remarkably refreshed and immeasurably more cleanly feeling, his stomach was audibly grumbling. The instant the bathroom door opened as he twisted the doorknob, his senses were barraged by an onslaught of delicious scents wafting inwards.

When he entered the main part of the house, Sakura turned from the stove. Unconsciously, her eyes lingered on his form for an extended moment as she absorbed the fact that he had shed his long-sleeved jounin shirt and flak jacket.

The same style of sleeveless dark shirt that Sakura had seen Kakashi wear in the hospital adorned Yamato's form instead, in noticeably better condition than his flak jacket and over-shirt had been.

With the different style of attire came a revelation on her part. Unconsciously, she knew that all jonin were generally well-muscled, with defined bodies that came from their line of work.

But until now, she'd never applied the concept directly to Yamato. Those baggy shirts hid the fine lines of his arms and chest, significantly muscled while still remaining lean enough to not look overly bulky.

Hoping that he'd missed her moment of visual appreciation, she put the large wooden spoon she'd been holding down and approached him.

Having been distracted by his change in appearance, Sakura belatedly noticed that he'd also shed his metal forehead protector that framed the majority of his face. That, however, was something that she'd seen before.

"You don't usually come back from missions this scraped up. It's been a while since I've seen you have so many superficial wounds."

"It's been a while since I've had a mission that was this… challenging." He chuckled briefly at his own choice of words.

Sakura's hand moved up to his forehead, brushing his bangs aside so she could access the small brown bruise surrounding a cut close to his hairline. "Classified information?" A small amount of chakra repaired his skin in no-time, the sides of the cut crawling together to form new, unblemished skin.

"Hardly," he replied, and this time his gaze followed her as she moved on to the small injuries on his arms. More scratches, bruises, and shallow wounds that made her curious as to what exactly he had been doing. "Guard detail on a merchant's caravan."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she paused in her healing to put her hands on her hips. "What," his teammate remarked dryly, "bandits gave you this much trouble?"

The way his lips quirked upwards at the corners was hard to miss. "Try the merchant's nine unruly daughters," he corrected. She watched him shudder in remembrance. "I'd take mobs of bandits over breaking up teenage catfights any day."

For a moment, she stared at him, her face fixed into a rather expressionless format. Then, once of her hands moved up to cover her mouth as a few giggles and snorts escaped despite her best efforts.

"_Nine_?" Her incredulous tone said it all. "Cat fights?"

"Who knew that civilian teenaged girls were so malicious," he commented, feeling himself sweat a bit in memory of the long trek he had been on.

When Sakura lowered her hand, she still looked fairly amused; however, an expression of sympathy was also in her face. "I think it's a rite of passage for teenage girls to turn into a horrible human being for a while," she explained. "You wouldn't have wanted to see me at thirteen. Ugh."

Shrugging as if shaking off the memory, Sakura gave him an impressed sideways glance. "And you handled nine of them? I sure hope they paid you for an S-rank mission."

"I'm fairly certain that I wasn't hired to protect them from bandits. Their father probably knew they wouldn't be able to travel that far without someone to keep them from killing each other."

"Undoubtably. Can you pull up your shirt so I can take a look at your ribs?" she asked, surprising him with her powers of observation. Yamato didn't think he'd been favoring his left side at all.

Complying easily, his hands found the hem of his shirt and he tugged it upward, revealing an impressive section of bruised ribs that had been colored in a myriad of black, dark blue and purples. She whistled through her lips as she examined it.

"Care to tell me how a few teenage girls managed that one?" Sakura asked in an appalled tone of voice as she assessed the extent of the damage to the bones. "You could've said something right off the bat and I would've fixed it first thing."

Chakra flared in both of her hands as she pressed them against his chest, and in the silence and comfort of her apartment, Yamato began to feel a familiar tingling in the back of his mind that reminded him of _something_.

Nudging him slowly towards a revelation.

But it eluded him, and he frowned, wondered what it was that he was missing.

As the pain in his severely battered ribs began to ease under her gentle ministrations, Yamato's face contorted into a pensive frown. There was something about the feel of her chakra reaching into his torso that made him think that somewhere, there were dots he should be connecting.

A few silent minutes passed by as Sakura wondered if he was ever going to tell her how a bunch of preteens had caused him to end up in such bad shape.

But whenever she took her gaze off of his torso to peek at his face, all she found was him scrutinizing her with his features drawn into deep thought. Although their eyes met, his were distant and unfocused, almost as if he was in a different time or place.

Her fingers drifted over his side as she took in her handiwork at repairing the damage.

"What, is it that traumatic of an experience to remember?" she joked lightly, hoping to ease the mood. "You're lucky; the bones themselves were just severely bruised. No actual breaks."

As Sakura spoke, she lifted one small hand up to cup his face. Chakra engulfed it again as she healed a shallow gash that marred his cheekbone, flicking her gaze upward to see what his response would be.

Outside of the battlefield where surges of adrenaline would accompany Sakura healing his wounds, and away from the confining chaos of the hospital, a vague memory began to creep out from the recesses of his mind.

The only recollection he had from his time trapped in the underground cavern during the war was vague, and relied heavily on senses aside from vision.

Before he woke in the hospital, there had been a brief moment of semi-consciousness that he had never been able to completely interpret.

_Someone's white-blue chakra had been pouring into his body, warming him thoroughly. He hadn't realized he was cold until then._

_Three voices echoed in the background. Although he didn't have the level of awareness to distinguish who they belonged too, he could identify one as female and two as male. _

_It was almost an out-of-body experience. Mostly, he presumed, because he didn't feel as if he quite had a body. The only thing tying him down to an existence seemed to be that inexplicably warm, comforting chakra pumping through him that assured him he had a physical form._

Yamato had been able to conclude that the vague memory could be attributed to the medical team that had rescued him from his confinement.

But as Sakura's chakra entered his cheek and mingled with his own just below the surface of his skin, the last piece of the puzzle suddenly slammed into place. It was so blindingly obvious that he didn't know how he had managed to miss the details beforehand.

When his hand suddenly shot up and clamped around Sakura's wrist, she jumped a few inches before she could help it.

Although painless, Yamato's grip was firm, his fingers unusually tense. Meeting his intense gaze, Sakura wondered what could be causing such an easy-natured person to be staring down at her with such a serious, profoundly concentrated expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asked softly, startled by his uncharacteristic behavior.

It took a minute for him to find the right words.

"It was you," Yamato replied, the words laced with shock.

Wondering what on earth she could've done to unnerve him in such a way, Sakura ceased the chakra output from her hand. His words made no sense to her and sent a wave of confusion stumbling through her mind.

"Wuh?" she replied intelligently, still unable to process the strange sensation of his warm, strong hand gripping her wrist, his fingers slightly encompassing the bottom of her palm.

His dark eyes narrowed. "You were the one who brought me out of Kabuto's jutsu," he clarified, finally releasing her wrist with a shocked sideways glance that belayed he had just now realized that he had been holding onto it.

Absolutely floored, Sakura lowered her hand and searched his features, her own a myriad of emotions that accompanied her deep consideration.

"I must have healed you a hundred times between now and then. What made a difference this time?"

The absolute lack of denial at his claim affirmed his conclusion. Not knowing how to answer the question, he simply stared at her for a long time, digesting the new information and watching her shift slightly, clearly unnerved by his unwavering gaze.

"I had no idea you retained any level of consciousness when we removed you," she told him softly when he didn't fill the silence with an answer. "Were you awake?"

"I don't know if I'd call the state I was in consciousness, exactly. It was a mixture of vague sensations; I could feel something warm, like someone's chakra flowing into me. And I could hear some voices."

Sakura wondered what he'd do if he knew it hadn't been chakra he'd been feeling, but her own life force flowing into him and reviving him.

If he knew the possible ramifications of using such a forbidden jutsu, he'd probably be the one scolding her for a change, she thought with a smile. It was a good thing he'd never know the risk that she had taken.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" he asked, his gaze probing.

Sakura's smile turned a bit dry with a hint of sweetness. "You were finally safe. The rest didn't seem to matter at the time." Slowly, she reached back up to put the finishing touches on his cheekbone.

"Besides, how many times have you saved my sorry ass without saying anything?" she deflected. "I could probably make a list. It'd likely take up more than a page – and I write really small. Now come on; the food is going to get cold."

In a whirlwind of action, Yamato soon found himself seated at a table with an impressive array of food placed before him. Beef curry and rice, a bowl of miso soup, a small plate of chicken katsu with dipping sauce, and a large glass of iced tea presented themselves as the best meal he'd had in a long time.

Something in his face must have revealed how impressed he was by the food she had prepared, because Sakura laughed lightly as she sat down to her own plate of food. "It's nothing to be in awe over. It's pretty basic dishes."

Trying to remember when he had last – if ever – had someone cook for him, Yamato heard his stomach rumble, easily heard across the table. "I think the last time I had a meal this great, it was at the hot springs when Sai and I first joined your team," he replied.

"Surely your mom still makes you homemade meals once in a while!" Sakura commented.

His shrug preceded his reply. "I suppose she might, if I had a mother."

Sakura froze in the action of picking up a piece of food with her chopsticks. Suddenly buried in a wave of shame, she wondered how she could possibly be such an insensitive clout.

"War orphan," he explained without her asking. "I assume we were easy pickings for Orochimaru to experiment on. No parents to question our sudden disappearances."

Swallowing the piece of carrot that suddenly had taken on the texture of ash in her mouth, Sakura felt an unmistakable ache form in her chest. Although she knew the details of Orochimaru's experimental efforts to insert the First Hokage's DNA into children, she hadn't known that none of the children had any family to speak of.

"Don't get upset on my account," Yamato spoke quietly, his tone gentle as he slanted her a somewhat pained look. Sakura realized that her eyes were feeling suspiciously watery as she gazed at him from across the table. "I've had a long time to grow accustomed to it."

It seemed that none of the men in her life had escaped from the years unscathed by some kind of tragedy.

"Two of the girls were so caught up in trying to pull each other's hair out that they knocked each other right off the side of a cliff," Yamato commented with laughter lacing his words as he abruptly switched the topic.

Pulled out of her reverie by the strange comment, Sakura blinked at him owlishly for a moment. "What?"

"You asked how my ribs got so damaged. Try catching two hair-pulling, scratching, screaming teenaged girls as they go tumbling over a cliff into a ravine."

The new direction of the conversation worked to lighten the somber mood that had unintentionally overcome the room. Sakura felt herself grinning in disbelief as they both ate, discussing the perils of watching over bunch of rabid girls.

Yamato had just been explaining how one of the younger ones – the five-year-old – had accidentally kicked out one of her sister's teeth when Sakura's doorbell rang through the midst of their laughter and conversation.

"Are you expecting someone?"

The way that Sakura's lips turned downward in a pensive expression answered the question for him before the woman had the chance to. "No…"

Hesitantly, she set her chopsticks down and got up, dusting off nonexistent crumbs from her lap. Yamato watched her make her way to the front door, the angle of the entryway making him lose sight of half of her form as she pulled the door open.

"Sasuke-kun?"

Yamato paused with the chopsticks halfway to his mouth. After polishing off his first round of food, Sakura had happily obliged him by serving him seconds.

Thankfully, her cooking tasted nothing like her food pills.

"Are you busy?" came the smooth, seemingly uncaring voice.

"Yes, actually," Sakura replied, and Yamato had a small moment of surprise at her quick rebuttal. Given her predisposition for the Uchiha, he wouldn't have been surprised if his appearance had taken precedence over their dinner.

After all, they were mostly finished eating.

Shoveling the rest of the food on his plate into his mouth, Yamato rose from his seat at the table, the scrape of his chair clearly audible. Making his way to the sink, he gathered the dirty dishes as he went.

"Are you injured?" Her question was laced with concern. Yamato couldn't help but notice the small hint of confusion that also tinged her words. It was clear to him that she was wondering why the other man was there.

"No." Yamato heard shifting, and could see Sakura lean back on her heels; she had probably been leaning forward, ready to examine him for wounds until he had denied having any.

Sasuke's eyes discreetly roamed over the entryway to Sakura's apartment, not missing the fact that two pairs of standard shinobi sandals had been discarded upon entering – one pair clearly far too big for the petite pink-haired girl.

"Then…?" Sakura prodded.

When his dark eyes fixed on her again, she fidgeted a bit under his scrutiny. "Naruto wanted me to get you," he explained, "for ramen. He's waiting with Hinata."

Yamato snuck one last bite of chicken katsu as he started running water into the sink, pretending he wasn't completely eavesdropping on the two. But then again, he justified, it was a shinobi's prerogative to gather information.

"Oh," Sakura said slowly. "Actually, I already have dinner plans. In fact, I'm kind of in the middle of them right now." A sweet, apologetic smile accompanied her statement. Yamato couldn't see it, but he could hear it in her tone of voice.

"I see," he replied. "I'll let Naruto know."

A few more softly mumbled words were exchanged before Yamato heard the door click closed.

"That was weird," Sakura muttered, preceding her own entry back into the kitchen. He heard her pause at the threshold of the room. "Are you washing the dishes?" If her tone hadn't been incredulous before, it was now.

"Ah… sorry," Yamato replied.

When he turned, she was staring at him with a grin, jade eyes glowing with amusement. Concern for the fact that his actions might have offended her began to abate as Sakura worked her way beside him, grabbing a towel and drying the dishes as they were washed.

After cleaning up, they somehow found themselves seated on the same couch, sitting across from each other playing card games. Cautiously, Yamato routinely searched her body language for any signals that he was overstaying his welcome.

Instead, he found her to be clearly enjoying his company, not anxious for him to leave. The washing machine hummed in the background; Sakura had thrown his discarded jonin shirt and vest into it.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Yamato spent probably a few moments too long examining his cards and formulating his next play and plan of action. Sakura was a quick thinker and a fine strategist. There were few people that presented a challenge to Yamato in card games, and he soon found out that she fit well into that schema.

Finally making up his mind, he pulled a few cards out of his hand and made to lay them on the couch between him.

Raising his vision to his face to assess her reaction, Yamato was surprised to see her head resting against the corner of the couch, her eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. She had nestled her way into the junction of the back and arm of the couch, supporting herself on it as she dangled her slender legs on the seat in front of her.

Searching the room until his eyes landed on a clock, Yamato felt a wave of disbelief at how late it was. The time, it appeared, had completely slipped away from him.

The soft lines of her body revealed the relaxation that she clearly felt in his presence. Combined with the long shift she'd had at the hospital, he supposed she had been lulled into sleep, comfortable in the environment even with him there.

Reluctantly, Yamato acknowledged that if he left her there, she'd get a horrible kink in her neck from the somewhat unnatural position of her head against the cushions.

With a practiced motion that he'd executed countless times before, he gently scooped her up in his arms and headed towards her bedroom. The lights were off, but the darkness wasn't an obstacle for him. As usual, her small frame was light in his arms; he always marvelled at the fact that something so tiny could inflict so much damage.

Moonlight shone through her window and illuminated everything clearly enough. Shifting his hold on her, he used one arm to support her back as he leaned forward to throw the blankets to the side.

Marveling at the fact that her sleep hadn't been disturbed by his interference, he gently laid her on the bed, folding the blankets over her petite frame.

After a moment spent contemplating how comfortable she was sleeping in his presence, Yamato found himself lingering a bit longer than be probably should.

Shutting the bedroom door softly behind him on the way out, he made his way to the entryway of the apartment, slipping into his sandals and giving one last glance backwards before locking the front door as he left.

***o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o***

When Sakura woke the next morning in her bed with no recollection of getting herself there, she took a minute to examine yesterday's clothes that she was still wearing before realizing what must have happened.

Groaning, she put her face in her hands and hoped she hadn't offended Yamato by falling asleep in the middle of their…

Their…

Well, she realized belatedly, she didn't really know what to call it.

Smiling, she found herself somehow lightened by the fact that their friendship as teammates was evolving.

Considering how close she was to the other male members of her team, it was somewhat surprising that she'd taken so long to start forming a closer friendship with her alternate team leader.

A few hours later when she reached her office in the hospital, her concern that her fit of narcolepsy might have offended Yamato was instantly abated at the sight waiting for her on her desk.

Simple but elegant, a slender glass vase filled with an arrangement of flowers was surreptitiously sitting in a previously unoccupied spot on the desk. A note was attached to it, and as Sakura reached out and opened it, a familiar scrawl met her eyes.

_Thank you for dinner_

The simple phrase made her lips pull up until she realized she was smiling. There were many positive attributes that the men on her team had, but nobody could claim that manners had ever been one of them.

Life, she supposed, found ways to fill in things for the things that it was lacking.

Sai, Naruto, Kakashi and Sasuke might be completely absent of manners, but life had brought around someone to reassure her that polite men weren't a dying breed.

***o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o***

**Author's Notes:**

Kishi is driving me nuts. I hate how Yamato has been pretty much completely ignored in the storyline since his capture...

Anyways, although it's somewhat an uncommon pairing, I love Yama/Saku. I think they instantly fit together, from their first mission at Tenchi Bridge. I mean, seriously - did everybody not see how many times he saves her butt, and the instant concern he has for her well-being?

I love how when he's holding her after he saves her from falling off the bridge, and he has one hand cupping her face...

Cuteness.

Anyway... Hopefully the story is enjoyable!

If you enjoy it, I'd love to hear about it!


	3. Chapter 2 - Delitescence

**Chapter 2 - Delitescence**

_(existing as potential,_

_present, but not visible)_

_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)_(*)(*)(*)___________________

Somehow, it was unsurprising that Shikamaru taught academy classes with the same air of nonchalance that accompanied the rest of his daily activities. As Sakura leaned against one side of the doorframe, she crossed her slender arms over her chest and found a small, fond smile crossing her features.

Stepping foot inside the ninja academy was so nostalgic. And to see Shikamaru there in a teaching capacity, lecturing as Iruka used to for them truly made her reflect on how far they had all come.

A pang of longing swept through her chest as she admired the array of young students, almost wishing that she could go back to those days of innocence and carelessness.

But too much had changed since then. She had changed too much to go back to anything resembling those times. And in all honesty, Sakura was glad for those changes, proud of what she had accomplished and turned into over the years.

A wave of chatter broke her train of thought, and she raised her eyes to see Shikamaru's slouched figure striding towards the door, hands in his pockets.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, pulling away from the doorway and straightening. "I was expecting to find one of your students with a kunai protruding from an appendage, but everyone looks to be in good shape."

A slow smile slid over his lips. "Yeah," he replied, "they're in good shape for now. But actually, they're due for graduating to genin status any day now, and I was hoping you might be available to help me."

"With?" Sakura prodded when he didn't continue.

"Field emergency first-aid. They've studied it, but it's not the same concept as carrying it out. I was thinking maybe a fieldtrip to the training grounds, where they could practice some methods."

When Sakura's face lit up at the prospect, he knew he'd come to the right person.

"That's a great idea," she replied, and Shikamaru could see her form bursting with sudden energy. "It's definitely an entirely different thing to read about splinting a broken bone in a book versus actually doing it in the field."

Shifting his weight from his left side to the right, Shikamaru dragged his eyes over the group of kids mingling loudly in the classroom. "Do you think you'd be able to find some time?"

Pursing her lips and tapping them thoughtfully with one finger, Sakura gazed upwards. "Actually, it's been a surprisingly dull morning at the hospital. If you give me an hour to gather some supplies, I could meet you all in the training grounds."

Uncaringly, he shrugged. "Sure," was the easy reply.

Sakura fixed her jade eyes on him suddenly with a grin. "Still, I'm surprised. You, wanting to teach your almost-genin students emergency first-aid? Careful – wouldn't want to ruin your lackadaisical reputation now."

Despite how deceptively bored his features remained, Shikamaru couldn't mask the fondness in his eyes when he raked them over the children who were splayed out in all different groups across the room.

"The more prepared they are the better. I'd be remiss if I didn't teach them everything I could. Besides, it'd probably come back to bite me in the butt in some troublesome way."

Grin spreading almost from ear-to-ear, Sakura leaned forward and poked Shikamaru in the chest. Years of familiarity between them allowed the gesture.

He raised an eyebrow at her in return, but all she said was, "Awh, Shika, you're such a softie."

***0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0**

Hidden in the short green patches of grass intermittently strewn with trees, crickets were chirping a bright and vibrant song. Fluttering around in the branches, various birds whistled along. Here and there, a lazy dog or cat was curled up in beams of sunlight, soaking up the beautiful day.

Staring at the mission roster, Yamato let out a blustery sigh. Unless his idea of savoring the day was spending it doing D-rank missions and depriving the genin of such tedious tasks, there was nothing there for him.

Shuffling back into the bright sunlight, he raised a hand to shield his eyes as he looked upwards at the clear, unblemished sky.

Early morning had already gone and passed, which meant that the familiar figure standing by the memorial was probably already finished with his morning routine.

Hoping to find his porn-reading senpai to spar with, Yamato headed towards the training grounds. There were few people that he enjoyed sparring with on occasion, and Kakashi was one of the rare ones who actually made it a challenge.

Of course, there was always Gai, but Yamato wondered briefly if there was anyone who truly had the energy to keep up with that man. The thought was almost enough to make him feel old, but since he was younger than the aforementioned green-clad enigma, he decided to attribute it to something in the drinking water.

Trudging onwards, he passed through the doors of the Konoha gate that were thrown wide open, waving to Izumo and Kotetsu as he passed.

After he passed the chain-link fence with the sign announcing the third training ground, the bushes receded and allowed him to catch sight of a figure. Only, the person was far too small to be the white-haired jonin he was looking for.

That and the boy he'd caught sight of was one of a rather significant group of small children gathered in the clearing. The lack of forehead protectors signified that they were pre-genin, and Yamato felt a small wave of wonder at what they were doing in this particular place.

Considering they were all gathered into a somewhat cohesive group, observing something that he couldn't quite make out, Yamato found his curiosity even further peaked.

So far as he knew, Sakura wasn't teaching at the academy.

His temporary confusion was abated when his trained eyes spotted a familiar figure with dark, spiky hair lounging in the grass several yards away. Whether Shikamaru was sleeping or cloud gazing was unclear, but it was evident that the students belonged to him.

Yamato's attention moved back to the children.

As he continued to approach, the shock of pink hair made itself more apparent at the front of the group. It had been a few days since he'd left flowers on Sakura's desk at the hospital, and he hadn't seen her since.

But there she was, bent over and chatting away amicably as she deftly handled bandages in her hands, clearly demonstrating how to wrap some kind of injury on the prone form of the volunteer lying on the ground in front of them.

And as Yamato drew close enough to be able to make out her words as she excitedly instructed them, he came to another realization – one that vividly implied Sakura's _lack of _realization.

Intently absorbed in her area of expertise, Sakura was so focused on whatever meidcal foray had her leaning forward as she stood in front of the class that she evidently wasn't aware of the fact that her shorts were riding up.

The term "riding up" was probably putting it lightly, Yamato amended with a sense of growing dread as he tuned into the conversation going on directly behind Sakura. A small group of young adolescent boys – probably around thirteen – had gathered at her back, viewing the display from behind her and having a muffled exchange that didn't escape his keen hearing.

Before tuning into the words, though, the brown-haired jonin quickly noted the way that they leered at the expanse of skin exposed before them. A female student of roughly the same age shook her head as she gazed sideways at them, clearly exasperated at their inappropriate behavior.

"I _dare _you!" one of the boys shot out. "But I bet you don't have the guts."

"Twenty ryo say I do!" the one in question replied.

A chorus of perverted cackling raised the hair on the back of Yamato's neck.

As the five boys leered in Sakura's direction (the scene rather reminiscent of Jiraiya anywhere near the vicinity of a hot springs bath house) Yamato's eyes caught the upward hike of her shorts again, revealing the tops of toned, sun kissed thighs – at least, that's all he hoped it was showing. However, he _was_ a significantly further distance away than them.

His train of thought pondering what they could be daring the boy to do – and god, had he been that much of a pervert at such a young age? – was cut short when the boy in question reached a hand forward, slowly inching it in the direction of aforementioned shorts and the creamy skin underneath it.

The little shit was going to grope her butt.

Before he realized it, his instincts as a shinobi had kicked in and his feet had left the ground with a small _swish_ as the movement disturbed the air.

Meant only to side-rail and not injure, the kunai preceded Yamato's form, whizzing through the air and nicking one of the boy's fingers as it followed its projected path. Letting out a startled cry of pain, the boy jerked his hand backwards.

Yamato's feet hit the ground behind Sakura before the kunai could hit a distant tree with a dull _thunk_.

Scrawny hand still in the process of retracting mid-air, the boy and his friends went tumbling and hurtling backwards when Yamato landed silently and suddenly in front of them. Four out of five of them landed on their asses in the dirt, hands flailing to catch their balance.

Turning the intimidation switch on, Yamato leaned forward, hands on his sides and eyes wide with darkened shadows eerily highlighting his remarkably terrifying features.

"I _know _you weren't just about to disrespect your superior," he spoke deeply, words laced with unbridled threat and menace. "Because if you _were_…"

Moving his arms, he made a fist with one hand and pressed it against the palm of his other, cracking his knuckles in a gesture of intimidation.

The effects worked as well on the kids as it did on Naruto.

They shrank back even further, scuttling in reverse on the ground like crabs until they bumped into the students behind them.

All of the abrupt commotion suddenly seemed to tune the pink-haired medic into a disturbance within the audience, and Sakura straightened, turning to look behind her.

When she noticed the unexpected addition to the class, Sakura blinked for a moment before her features split into a wide smile. "Yamato-taichou," she quipped cheerily, clearly failing to notice the terrified students cringing in his general direction.

Giving the boys one last stern, haunting warning look before abruptly correcting his features into a friendly expression, Yamato pivoted to face her.

"T-t-taichou?" one of the boys stuttered, and Sakura raised an eyebrow, wondering what had him so rattled.

"Sakura-sensei?" came a timid, quiet voice, causing everyone's attention to swing to the figure still lying on the ground, arm wrapped in bandages. "Can I get up now?"

While Sakura moved to unwind the makeshift bandages, Yamato watched her with a sense of growing admiration. It was the first time he had heard anyone refer to her with the particular honorary attached to her name, and it suddenly made him reminisce on how far she had come.

He'd observed Team 7 from the shadows when they were on a mission as genin, when she had been as young as the kids she was now giving lessons to.

Somehow, it was hard to reconcile the earlier image of Sakura into the woman before them now. Never in a million years would he have guessed that the Uchiha-obsessed preteen would be the one to save his life in the aftermath of the war years later.

_How people change…_

Yamato was pulled out of his reverie when he noticed Sakura's eyes fixed on him, a mischievous grin splitting her face. It practically spread from ear to ear, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could swear he detected a masochistic glint in her jade eyes.

"So," she spoke to the pre-genin who watched with anticipatory faces, "who wants to see what a spar between two jonin looks like?"

The clamor following the suggestion was nearly deafening as each student expressed unbridled excitement at the prospect.

Well, Yamato figured, he had come here looking for someone to spar with after all. It just appeared that his sparring partner would be very different from the one he anticipated – but knowing Sakura, it'd still be a challenge.

The man didn't realize his lips had quirked upwards until he heard one of the students remark, "Are all jonin that bloodthirsty? Why are they both smiling about fighting?"

Clearly Sakura heard as well, from the gentle snort that escaped her lips. "Just tai-jutsu? Or anything goes?" Her voice was deceptively gentle as she retreated a fair distance from the students, slipping into a battle-ready stance.

"Up to you – I'll follow your lead." It was surprising, to him, that Shikamaru hadn't tuned in to the abrupt change in lecture material. Lord knew his students were being loud enough in their excitement to see some real action for a change.

The words had barely left his mouth when he was forced to reflexively raise a forearm to block the swinging leg aimed for his head.

Grabbing and tugging on her ankle, Yamato pulled her off balance with her raised leg; in response, Sakura dropped to the ground and shifted her weight onto her palms. Tearing her ankle out of his grasp, she swung around, swiping one leg towards him to knock his out from underneath him.

Wondering when the fight would escalate from warm-up exercises to true sparring, Yamato leapt up to avoid the extended limb, forming hand-seals midair.

A large rectangular branch of wood formed from his shoulder, growing outward and chasing Sakura as she flipped backward and came to her feet.

When her chakra enhanced fist plummeted forward ahead of her advancing body and smashed into the wood, splintering it into dozens of pieces, the awed noises of the spectators made Yamato chuckle.

They continued to exchange blows, cleverly blocking, dodging and evading each other in a frenzy of fluid motions of lithe limbs.

Occasionally, one of them would throw in a random technique – a clone, a burst of chakra to split the earth – as they chased each other towards the line of trees surrounding the clearing in the training grounds.

Smoothly flipping out of the way of another wood jutsu, Sakura shot a boost of chakra in her legs in anticipation to jump and aimed for a high-up tree branch. Just as her feet were preparing to land on the heavy bark, one of the student's voices reached her over the distance with its uncontained volume.

"Do you think that sparring is like some kind of foreplay for them?" The innocent looking girl who voiced the question _couldn't_ have been more than twelve years old.

Later, Sakura would blame many things for the way that her standard-issue sandals slipped out from underneath her in what _would_ have been her graceful landing.

Shock, for one. Who on earth would have expected such a sweet looking girl to string the word _foreplay_ into a sentence so casually?

Instead, her foot slipped out from underneath her as she missed her initial target footing; the world tilted at an impossible angle as the air began to rush up from beneath her, sending long pink locks of hair flying through her field of vision and delaying her ability to regain her bearings.

Wincing, Sakura braced herself for a painful landing – although whether it would bruise her body or her pride more, she wasn't entirely sure.

But instead of the hard earth stopping her impact, a warm but firm set of arms cushioned her fall. Yamato's knees bent to absorb the impact as he caught the discombobulated kunoichi, bracing her weight against his chest as he straightened to a stand and grinned down at her disarmingly.

"Yup, _definitely _foreplay," chirped one of the boys. Sakura's minute blush suddenly engulfed her face in a red flame as she wondered if her team captain had heard the preceding comment.

By the amused expression playing across his features, Sakura hoped that he was only entertainingly puzzled by the fact that she has lost her balance.

Her tumble had positioned him to catch her in front of the tree line, in clear view of the entire class as his arms encompassed her small frame.

Raising one small, feminine hand with its nails charmingly painted a hue to match her eyes, Sakura pushed the disarray of hair out of her face and opened her mouth to try to come up with some kind of excuse for her uncharacteristically clumsy behavior.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," came the lazy drawl of a man whose afternoon sunbath had been interrupted, "but honestly, Sakura, what on earth are you teaching my students in the name of medical science?"

Just when she thought that the blush might start granting her some mercy and recede, it renewed itself with a refreshed vigor.

Clearly amused by the extent of her embarrassment, Yamato laughed softly as he gently lowered her to her feet, one hand lingering on her waist to make certain that Sakura had regained her balance. Her grateful smile poked out from beneath the blush, which had started to slowly fade in color but was still very apparent.

When she turned to look at the class, Sakura had to muffle a laugh at the hearts in some of the eyes of the young girls.

They were practically fawning in Yamato's direction, clearly charmed by the simple, practiced motion that had probably appeared to them as every preteen girl's romantic dream. Giddily, some had hands raised by their faces, light blushes splayed across their cheekbones.

"You have some admirers," Sakura laughed quietly, nudging Yamato in the side and pointing subtly in the direction of the love-struck girls.

The horrified expression that ate up Yamato's features made her unable to contain her laughter, although she lifted one fist to try to cover her mouth in an attempt to muffle it.

"I wonder if _he _would teach us when we learn how to use chakra to climb trees!" one of the girls – a green-eyed blonde – whispered to her girlfriends, although the comment easily reached their trained ears.

"I'd gladly fall out of a tree if it meant he'd catch me like that!" piped another.

Glad to draw the attention away from her own source of embarrassment, Sakura couldn't help but prod him a little bit. "What's wrong, Taichou – scared of a few little teenage girls?" she teased mercilessly.

"When they're looking at me like that? Definitely," he concurred without shame, shuddering slightly.

"As long as you don't let one of them corner you into sitting on a bench with them, I think you'll be fine." Sakura let another snicker slip out of her mouth as she reminisced on when her nauseatingly infatuated preteen-self had cornered Sasuke on a stone bench, hoping to get her first kiss from him.

At her teasing, Yamato was prompted to see what she would think if she knew that the preteen boys within the same group had been oogling her assets not long before.

But before he could consider commenting, his on-again off-again team member's stomach let out a hungry peal of a grumble, causing a bashful expression to overtake her features as she caught him staring at her.

So, "Feel like yakitori?" he offered instead, realizing that he was also overdue for lunch.

Yamato was rewarded when her face brightened noticeably. "Count me in!"

**0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0***

Sakura could pretty much feel the anticipatory glee with which her salivary glands rapidly produced moisture in her mouth as they approached the stand.

Accustomed to the occasional dining session with Kakashi and Naruto, Sakura happily gave the request for four orders of Yakitori – if Yamato didn't eat two servings-worth himself, she could definitely finish off the extras – and reached for her purse in her back pocket.

So she was pleasantly shocked when a fingerless-gloved hand reached over her shoulder and proffered the money for the food.

Blinking, Sakura turned to face Yamato, who smiled before turning to take a seat on one of the benches in front of the stand. Plopping down next to him, she shot him a grateful look. "You didn't have to do that."

His expression became a bit appalled as he regarded her, his sense of good humor still apparent. "What kind of self-respecting man lets a woman pay for his meal?"

Well, a girl could get used to that for once. "You didn't have to pay for mine too."

As he examined the nuances of her expression and body language, Sakura wriggled under his scrutiny, wondering if it was glaringly obvious that it had been a long time since a man with a sense of chivalry when it came to those types of things had been present in her life.

A long time? Who was she kidding herself – there hadn't been anyone who ever fit that bill, excluding family.

"I guess what I mean is – thank you," she amended before he could reply, suddenly realizing that she probably sounded terribly ungrateful.

Being a shinobi wasn't a particularly feminine trade, and probably had a lot to do with the fact that Sakura was accustomed to be treated like one of the boys. Kakashi regularly dumped the bill on them, gender a completely irrelevant issue in his eyes.

It was a nice reminder that someone acknowledged that her feminine status hadn't been so completely diminished that having a man buy her a meal was completely unimaginable.

Any response Yamato could've come up with was derailed as the young woman belonging to the restaurant stand brought out their order of grilled chicken, gleaming in sauce and looking to Sakura like the most appetizing thing ever to appear on skewers.

A silence fell between them as they munched appreciatively on the freshly grilled meat, and Sakura slowly realized that the silence was a comfortable and easy one.

There weren't many people who she could simply sit with, enjoying soaking up their presence without having to worry about bandying words between them. Moments like that were few and far between, and generally only happened with Sai. It may have taken her a few years to notice, but Yamato was clearly capable of being one of those few.

Her booted feet swung back and forth unconsciously, catching Yamato's attention and making him grin around a stick of yakitori at her carefree disposition.

It was with a sense of regret that the man realized how long it had taken him to form any bonds with his sometimes-team outside of a mission capacity. Although they were all quick to greet each other in public – seeing a friendly face was always a highlight – they hadn't done much to invade each other's personal lives.

But lately, it seemed, that had taken a change for the better.

Yamato wasn't sure what he could attribute their sudden formation of friendship too, but he found himself gladdened by it. Life as a shinobi often led to excessive amounts of solitude between missions – especially for those in ANBU – and even he himself realized that it wasn't healthy to frequently be cooped up alone.

Still digesting the fact that Sakura had been the one to rescue him from his imprisonment, Yamato found his gaze fixated on her for longer than was probably necessary.

Sitting there with her legs swinging, reclining backwards with one hand supporting her weight behind her, Sakura could have easily been mistaken for a young civilian woman. Her delicate features certainly would support that conclusion - everything from her unblemished, sun-kissed skin to her pale hair and bright eyes.

It was far-fetched to guess the extent of strength and fiery determination that lay behind that petite frame. Far-fetched, but entirely accurate and so easily disguised.

Of all the people whose welfare Sakura would have been concerned about during the war, Yamato hadn't considered that he himself would make the list.

It wasn't that he thought of her as single-minded or uncaring, because he knew that neither term applied to her in any shape or form in a negative connotation. Single minded when it came to defeating an enemy? Yes – powerfully and violently so. Single minded and self-absorbed when it came to her comrades, though? Never.

It just hadn't occurred to him that of the many priorities the young woman had, he might be one of them.

A feeling began to settle in his chest, gratifyingly warm.

How long had it been since he had enjoyed the bonds of a close friendship with somebody? As of now, he could hardly call his relationship with Sakura close – tentative was more like it – but it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine their friendship evolving.

When a shadow fell over them, Yamato raised his eyes from Sakura to peruse the man who was standing before them with arms crossed over his chest, fixated on the pink haired woman's face. The stare practically bored a hole into her until she acknowledged the perpetrator.

An instant giveaway to the stranger's identity was the spikes of dull pink hair – Yamato almost choked on bite of Yakitori as he wondered if Sakura's father _meant_ to style his hair in the shape of a cherry blossom, the five spokes all too evident.

If he wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of an impish grin on Sakura's face as she greeted, "Hi, Dad."

"Sa-ku-ra," the blue-eyed man drawled back, the affection in his words somewhat belayed by the underlying tone of a parent lecturing their child, "we haven't seen you in a while. Your mother misses you, you know."

Looking positively adorable with the expression of a properly reprimanded child on her face, Sakura pouted up at him, her lower lip looking particularly plump and jutting out.

Before she could make an excuse, Kizashi's focus of attention shifted to the tall man in the flak jacket sitting next to his daughter. As the older man's eyes narrowed in speculation, Yamato found himself wondering when the last time was that he had been put under the current level of scrutiny from an overprotective father – if ever.

Seeming to read into the train of thought that her father had abruptly adopted, Sakura smiled softly and gestured towards the suddenly bashful man who was rubbing the back of his head worriedly beside her.

Yamato was rapidly attempting to calculate if the man before him had ever attained any rank of shinobi, and how much of a potential threat he could be.

"Dad, this is my team leader – Captain Yamato," she introduced quickly.

Kizashi's demeanor swiftly pulled a one-eighty, shifting from that of an overprotective father on the lookout to a friendlier, more welcoming one.

"Ah, Yamato-san," Kizashi spoke, "It's nice to finally meet the man I've heard so much about."

Blinking, Yamato held out a hand to grasp the one outstretched in his direction, shaking it while giving Sakura a sideways glance, shocked to hear that he'd ever been mentioned to her family. "My daughter speaks very highly of you."

If he wasn't mistaken, a slight pink was dusting Sakura's cheekbones as she very studiously participated in a stare-down contest with her skewer of chicken.

"Sakura is a valuable asset to the team. More often than not, she's the reason everyone makes it back in one piece." Although the compliment was meant in earnest and nothing but the plain truth, Yamato relished the addition that his words made to his teammate's obvious discomfort.

Both men couldn't help but chuckle when the light blush on Sakura's face intensified; they were rewarded for their actions by a sharp glare she sent in their directions as they laughed at her expense.

"Have Sakura bring you by the house sometime for a meal," Kizashi offered, talking straight to her team leader and bypassing her entirely. "See if you can get her to bring Sai and Naruto too – my wife enjoys those crazy kids."

Tearing off a chunk of chicken and chewing mercilessly on it, Sakura watched her father and Yamato exchange pleasantries, trying to mask her childishly giddy reaction and being complemented by her superior.

A superior she respected greatly, at that. Tsunade wasn't exactly a fountain of praise, and lord knew Kakashi was more liable to pat her on the head and ruffle her hair than shoot her a decent flattery. So Sakura decided that she'd soak it up and bask in its rare occurance while the two men had their attention focused elsewhere, and the swinging of her feet took on a new level of enthusiasm.

She was torn out of her reverie when her father leaned over to place a kiss on her temple. Smiling, Sakura snagged one of his hands and gave it a quick, loving squeeze.

"Take care, Dad."

"You too, sweetie."

With marked fondness, Sakura watched her father stride away. Putting down the now barren wooden skewer, she propped her second hand on the bench behind her and shifted so that she was facing Yamato.

Obviously he had been just as ravenously hungry as she was, because despite their interrupted meal, he had managed to polish off both sticks of yakitori as well. A humorous hint played at his lips as he looked at her, his head tilted to meet her gaze.

"For a second there, I thought that the man who has taken a chidori blade to the chest for me was terrified of my father," Sakura teased, eyes glinting with humor.

"Ah, well, when a man is looking at you like he's wondering if you've defiled his daughter, you can't be too wary." Yamato chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck absent mindedly.

"Sorry. He's been waiting nineteen years for me to bring home a boyfriend just so he can switch the intimidation factor on. What made you decide that making a run for it wasn't worth it?"

His lips twitched at her statement, but he easily admitted, "When I realized he was a civilian."

Light green eyes widened minutely and then narrowed in speculation. "What made you so sure he was never anything but a civilian?"

Although he shrugged nonchalantly, Sakura didn't miss the slightly victorious and self-satisfied hint to his features. It was so childish in its exuberance that it made her crack a grin. She'd been doing that a lot lately – smiling.

"When you observe the way that people move for long enough, you learn to be able to pick out civilians from the rest." His triumphant expression began to soften into something warm and almost wistfull as he met her eyes. "Your father clearly cares a lot for you."

Six years ago, Sakura would've snapped and yelled if one of her parents had dared to kiss her forehead in public. But time and experience brought maturity, and if there was one thing she had learned, it was that she should never take love for granted.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice unusually gentle, "yeah, he does. I'm lucky."

As soon as she spoke the words, Sakura nearly winced. The realization that the man beside her had no parents to speak of – and consequently, a gaping lack of parental love or affection – made her feel terrible for rubbing hers in his face.

When Sakura suddenly broke eye contact with him, forgoing it for an abrupt acute interest in her toes, it wasn't hard for Yamato to read the expression that was written clearly all over her face. While his petite teammate was skilled in many areas, subterfuge had never been one of them. Reading her was easier than reading the pages of an open book.

Briefly, Yamato raised one arm as if he meant to lay a comforting hand on her leg. But he clearly thought twice about it as he checked the motion before it could be made. Instead, he redirected the gesture and settled for placing his warm hand on her shoulder, regaining her attention.

"There are people in the world who would begrudge others for having what they don't. I hope you never mistake me for being one of them, Sakura." In conjunction with the statement, his warm hand gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

It was such a contradiction to her that a man who could participate so intently in deathly battles could have such tender eyes set in a soft, open and expressive face. The only other shinobi Sakura could name that was capable of such a gentle demeanor was Hinata – which was invariably different in nature, since she was a woman.

She tried to imagine what life would have been like without her parents. Without anyone to comfort her as a child when she cried, or to bandage her scraped knees. Nobody to throw her birthday parties, to arrange sleepovers with her friends. No father to pick her up when she fell down, and no mother to make her eat her vegetables.

"Hey, hey – don't start that again." The words held only fondness – no censure – as his large hand moved from her shoulder to rest under one of her suspiciously moist eyes. One of his knuckles caught a droplet as it fell, and Sakura wondered what could be making him feel the whatever way he was that brought the current expression onto his features.

"I'm sorry," Sakura mumbled, not realizing she'd started to tear up until his hand touched her face. When he retracted the hand, taking its warmth with it, her cheek suddenly felt strangely cold.

"There's nothing to apologize for," was his compassionate reply.

It was ironic to Sakura that somehow, Yamato had been the one to end up comforting her.

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Good god, this chapter took 12938172893723 days to write. It just kept pouring out – I'd be like "Okay, this is gonna end here" and then it would punch me in the face and say "Nope! We're gonna keep going!"

I feel like I should put a warning to any readers: Hopefully you've noticed by now that this story isn't revolving around some gigantic, overarching dramatic plot line. It's about the gradual formation of a relationship, and while there will be some minute mission side-plots, the relationship will remain the main focus. Cheese, fluff, friendship, and building attraction galore. Just a disclaimer, in case anybody was wondering when the plot was going to hit.

For anyone who hasn't seen the Shippuden movie Road to Ninja, I didn't create Sakura's fathers name or appearance. Kishimoto actually helped to come up with it himself, even though her father never appears in the regular storyline.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! If you enjoyed it, let me know. =) Reviews let me know that someone's reading & that I'm not writing for nothing!


	4. Chapter 3 - Anamnesis

**Anamnesis**

_(the recollection or remembrance of the past; _

_reminiscence)_

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**Author's Note & SPOILER Warning!**

For those of you who haven't read the manga at all or in a long, long time (since the end of, say, 2012) there is an unavoidable spoiler contained below. They're almost to it in the anime... It's contained in Naruto manga chapter 614, to be prescise. If you don't know which member of the Konoha 11 bites the dust, then... erm... run away screaming from this chapter, I guess.

More important notes at the bottom of the page!

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Sai's dark hair shifted as he gave a brief, satisfied nod from his bent position over the petite, feminine foot resting on his knee. Capping the fingernail polish, he raised his head.

Careful not to smudge the drying polish, Sakura lifted her leg up to properly view her freshly painted toenails. "Wow," was the only adequate word available in her vocabulary as she examined Sai's impressive handiwork.

After putting on a solid coat of a dark blue, the artist had used white to paint varied forms of daisies on each toenail, complete with orange centers. Consistent with his inked art, the lines were flawless and beautiful.

"Marry me?" Sakura asked enthusiastically and rhetorically, wriggling her toes in the air while being careful not to bump the wet nails. Boy, would Ino be jealous when she saw the kind of mani-pedi Sakura had received from her quirky teammate.

When a heavy silence fell over the room, the pink-haired woman lifted her face to find Sai staring at her with a slightly wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights expression. It took a moment for the words to catch up with her before Sakura could realize what had put him so off balance.

"I was under the impression that general custom dictates it is the male's perogative to ask for the woman's hand in marriage," Sai spoke slowly before she could intervene.

Laughing softly, Sakura straightened on her couch. "Sorry, sometimes I forget we're still working on expressions with you. When a person is very thankful for someone, they sometimes say 'Marry me' as a way of conveying how much they enjoy them and their contributions to the friendship. It's a way of signalizing and vocalizing how awesome we think a friend is."

Setting the bottle of nail polish on the coffee table, Sai pursed his lips thoughtfully, the slight wrinkle between his brows giving away the fact that he had yet to grasp the concept.

"The use of such a phrase is bound to cause confusion. How is a woman supposed to know if a man is truly asking for her hand in marriage when one uses such a proposal as an allusion to the appreciation of a friendship?"

Laughing, Sakura took a moment to admire her french-manicured fingernails as she formulated a reply. "A proposal is generally done in a way that makes it very unmistakable. And you're right – it is a male's job to propose. Generally, people tend to be in a _relationship _first."

Although his confusion clearly hadn't completely abated, Sai nodded, at least temporarily satisfied. "That is good," he commented, his dark eyes meeting her green ones, "since I understand that two people are generally supposed to have mutual sexual attraction if they wish to get married. And while I find your figure to be aesthetically pleasing, I don't-"

"Sai?" Sakura cut in, feeling the muscles in her eye twitching mercilessly. "I suggest you end that sentence right there, and stop while you're ahead. Let's leave it at 'aesthetically pleasing'."

A slight, puzzled frown still on his lips, the Anbu member nodded, knowing better than to agitate her.

"I still don't understand how you can paint like that. Whenever I try to paint my toenails, I think I get more polish on my toes than on the nails."

"Clearly, I am the more coordinated out of the two of us. This shouldn't come as too much of a suprise, since your battle tactics revolve around the use of brute force, whereas mine require deft detail and – ouch. Was that necessary?"

As the man rubbed his shoulder where his teammate had gently socked him, Sakura huffed. "Just be glad it was a love-tap and not an actual punch. I could've easily used my _brute force_," she reiterated, glaring in his direction.

Gradually, a smile grew on his face. It proved to be rather contagious as Sakura felt her own turning upwards at the corners, her lips pulling tight as both of their eyes took on a more playful glint.

"What's the occasion for this anyway?"

"Girls' night out," Sakura replied, scooting back enough so that her feet dangled off the edge of the couch, allowing her to swing them gently back and forth. "All of us girls don't get to spend time together all at once very often, so we like to make a thing out of it."

"I've never known you to be overly feminine," Sai commented offhandedly, head tilted as if observing her."Therefore, the excess effeminacy that you are displaying tonight appears to be rather uncharacteristic. "

"...I'm going to_ try_ not to take that as an insult," Sakura replied, playfully tapping his shin with one of her feet. "To be honest, glitter and makeup and dresses aren't really my thing. But it is nice, once in a while, to try to remember that despite our profession, we are women."

Still regarding her thoughtfully, Sai intently examined her features before nodding. "In that case, may I suggest a particular outfit?"

"Gladly. Given the choice between having _you _help coordinate my outfit, and having Ino dress me, I'm going to be smart and pick the person who is least likely to attempt to reveal more of my skin than the public has ever seen before. Besides, I think you'd be the best qualified for color coordinating – artistic senses and all."

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It was curious, Sakura supposed, that somehow the beginning of their girls' nights took place in a pub that was frequented mostly by jonin.

Such a place wasn't the most feminine of choices, which contrasted the general intention of the excursion, but it was familiar – and if they faced the facts, they were all war veterans. It was only natural that they'd feel comfortable in an atmosphere where they were surrounded by other veterans.

Hoping that it wasn't some preordained destiny that one would take directly after their jonin teachers, Sakura shot a quick wave at Kakashi, giving his dirty book a disdainful glance just for old time's sake. His familiar lazy hand raised up into the air in response, although the one visible eye never left the page.

Then again, she thought, there were worse fates than to end up as a battle-wisened veteran with an undying sense of loyalty and the determination to always save ones comrades.

The porn reading, though, she could really do without.

Pulled out of her reverie by the furiously waving hand that jutted out above a head of dark hair (strangely absent of its twin-buns), Sakura smiled at Tenten.

Unmistakably the last of them to arrive, she slid into the seat across from the weapons user and shared grins with the other two occupants of the booth.

"Tenten, I don't think we tell you enough how amazing you look with your hair down," the medic commented in greeting. She was rewarded when a light blush crosed the girl's face.

"Thanks," she groaned reluctantly. "Unfortunately, you're not the only one who seems to think so, and I'm about to swear off loose hair for life if this is what it gets me."

Directly contrasting her enthusiasm at seeing Sakura a moment ago, Tenten slumped forward with her forehead resting on the table, swirling the straw in her drink.

When Sakura tilted her head in askance, Ino nudged her gently with an elbow and inclined her blond head in the direction of a tall young man standing at the bar.

"Some chunin I haven't seen around before is just hooked on poor Tenten over here. She politely declined his advances, but he insisted on getting her a drink," Ino explained.

"To give him some credit, you do look beautiful, Tenten," Hinata spoke softly from the corner, ever the peacemaker. "You can't fault him for taste, at least."

Sakura hesitated before replying, examining Tenten's features and noticing the slightly haggard appearance they had taken on. If there was anyone who never needed defending, it would be her; the girl had a backbone strong enough to fend for herself and then some.

The day someone took advantage of Tenten would be the day Gai swore off spandex.

But the telltale signs of fatigue were a bit too clear, not able to escape Sakura's trained medical scrutinization. There was a dusting of dark color underneath the weapon user's eyelids, her pallor was a shade too light, and the corners of her eyes were tilted in a way that betrayed her exhaustion.

"Hey," she started softly, waiting until she caught the girl's dark brown eyes. "Are you doing alright?"

Resting her chin on the tabletop, Tenten raised her eyes to meet Sakura's, forming an encouraging smile. "I'm just wiped. Between my genin team, regular missions, and training, I think I might drop dead by the end of the month."

The fact that the blonde at their table had her vision fixated on the aforementioned young man soon became apparent. "You know, he's not bad looking," Ino interjected abruptly. "If nothing else, he might be good for a tumble or two!"

Hinata's facial pigmentation instantly filled up with color at the remark, and Sakura sighed and let her forehead fall into one of her hands. Tenten groaned, letting her forehead thunk to the tabletop again. "Like I'd have time for a_ romp_ even if I wanted one," was her unenthusiastic reply.

"Might put some color back in your cheeks," Ino commented offhandedly. "Could be some great stress relief, too." Playfully, Tenten swatted a blind arm in her general direction, eliciting a small round of laughter from their table.

Ino choked off her laughter suddenly, cupping one hand around her mouth and whispering "Tenten, he's coming back!" in a tone that failed to be significantly hushed.

When Tenten positively seemed to slump forward into a puddle of exhausted goo in anticipation of dealing with something that she just couldn't formulate the energy to handle, Sakura felt herself bristle a bit in anger. What was up with someone not being able to take no for an answer, anyway?

The minute she laid eyes on the chunin's smooth, confident grin, Sakura had to wrestle down the impulse to instantly punt him across the establishment.

Forced to raise her head from the table when the young man informed her that he'd ordered her a drink and there were two seats meant for them by the bar, Tenten tried to work up a polite but discouraging smile.

"I appreciate the offer, but like I said before, I'm not here looking for a date. I'm here to spend time with my friends," Tenten replied, diplomatic but firm.

Four intense pairs of eyes swung to the chunin as he replied with a bout of raucous and cocky laughter. "Girls don't get all dressed up and look the way that you do to hang out with their friends. You're obviously trying to attract attention," he argued, extending the drink towards Tenten.

Ino's jaw dropped, slack with shock, and Sakura suddenly sat up a little straighter in her seat, posture rigid. Hinata's pale eyes were wide and intent, and Tenten's smile seemed to crack and freeze on her lips.

Unable to prevent the wave of protective instinct that swept over her, Sakura slid out of her seat and rose to her feet.

Her stature might not measure up to his at her petite height of 5'2", but it was easy to discern the way that her body language suggested preparation for physical engagement of a negative connotation.

The chunin stood a few feet away from her and perhaps over a foot taller than her, an unfamiliar face that she couldn't put a name too.

"So let me get this straight," the medic started, and anyone who knew her would've been warned by the tense undertone to her voice that generally precluded an outburst. "You're convinced that we're here with nothing better to do than doll ourselves up to try to attract attention from men?"

Completely bypassing the body language that hinted at the thinly veiled aggression in Sakura's confrontation, the man turned to her and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's what girls like you always want," was the reply.

Tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, Sakura laughed softly and pulled her lips upward into a vicious and apprehensive smile that warned everyone at the table of what was about to come. To a stranger, the smile looked deceptively sweet.

To anyone familiar with her, it was a warning to duck for cover.

"Is that right?"

Seated behind Tenten, Hinata raised her hands to her face, fingers covering her expression of horrified anticipation at what was to come. Peeking between some of her fingers, she noted the rigidity of Sakura's muscles and waited for what was bound to happen next.

"And her saying she wasn't interested?" Sakura prodded, her sickeningly sweet tone of voice a stark contrast to her thoughts on the matter.

"Typical female playing hard to get. Why can't you all just admit what you want?"

Sakura's smile cracked on her face.

The hand that had been gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear balled into a fist as she thrust it backwards, giving her the necessary range of motion to gain the required momentum to rush forward and plow it into the impudent idiot's face.

It would be perfect, she decided; her fist would land in his face as he was still mid-chuckle, too young and too inexperienced to sense her murderous intention. He never saw it coming, too wrapped up in his own little conceited world.

A familiar presence assaulted Sakura's senses at the same moment she felt a warm, gloved hand wrap around her fist before it could finish its trajectory and fly any further than a foot beyond her own body.

With one smooth motion, Kakashi grasped her significantly smaller, minimally chakra-enhanced hand and pulled it down to her hip, using the leverage to tug her petite frame towards him.

It gave the illusion that the entire motion was meant to be part of his action to tuck her into his side in an affectionate gesture, hand firmly encasing her clenched fist against her waist in a deceptively comfortable appearing fashion.

Grinding her teeth in frustration and belatedly wondering if she should have redirected the punch to a less deserving but adequately frustrating target, Sakura glared up at him from her position tucked warmly under his arm and pressed up against larger frame.

Some of that volatile anger dissipated when she noted that the silver-haired jonin's headband had been pulled up, revealing a pair of mismatched eyes that would make even the most inexperienced genin put a name to his face instantly. And his reputation.

"Now, now, what do we have here?" he drawled, that lazy voice she knew so well projecting a calm demeanor, but the exposed swirling red eye suggesting otherwise. "You wouldn't be bothering my favorite teammates, would you?"

Although the persistent young man had missed all the blatant warning signs of the danger that Sakura presented, he found Kakashi's to be unmistakably clear. All of the color fled from his face, and he backed up slowly, retracting the drink that he had previously offered to Tenten.

"A-actually," he stuttered, "I was just telling them to have a great night." With that, he tucked tail and practically ran back to his friends, whose murmurs revolving around the 'copy nin' weren't hushed enough to escape their hearing.

Still smooshed up against Kakashi's side like a rag doll, Sakura glared daggers at his partially turned face. "What the hell was that about?" she demanded. "Since when am I not capable of handling a situation like that on my own? And since when are you a condescending chauvinistic ass?"

As she wriggled like a fish out of water beneath his hold, Kakashi fixed his gaze on her firmly and held it for a moment before relenting, suddenly releasing his grip. Sakura backed up a step to put some distance between them and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hypocrite much?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Sakura's lips moved soundlessly as she tried to formulate some kind of reply.

"It's acceptable for you to stand up for Tenten because you're a woman, but if I step in, my status as a male makes me a – how did you so delicately phrase it – _condescending chauvinistic ass_?"

At somewhat of a loss for words, Sakura let out a huff of air that briefly lifted cotton-candy-hued bangs from the forehead they occupied before falling back down in disarray.

"I actually enjoy frequenting this establishment," Kakashi continued dryly, "and somehow, I doubt they'll let me keep coming here if my pupil sends a man flying through their wall… _again_."

The fight went out of her as Kakashi pulled his forehead protector back down to its normal position, and with a sigh Sakura slumped back into her seat at the booth, the adrenaline finally leaving her system.

As usual, nothing bypassed Kakashi's powers of observation as his eye swept over their attire and the collection of items each of them had brought with them, mostly stowed underneath the table.

"You're going to visit him again," he stated, only partially a question that was never expected to receive an answer because he already knew. Their regular routine had become common knowledge to a close few.

Some heavy emotion weighted his features as he lifted one arm and gently laid his palm on Sakura's head, a ghost of the gesture he used to make when he would ruffle her hair in her younger years.

As Sakura met his gaze, something undefinable passed through his eyes, and she could almost read the statement the unspoken emotion wrote in his face; _I never wanted this for you._

The pink-haired jonin felt her throat constrict without warning, chest heavy with a burden tangible to them all. The edges of her eyes felt hot and suspiciously watery, and she swallowed in an attempt to bury some of the emotion that swam up relentlessly.

Without another word, Kakashi abruptly pivoted and strode back to his table, tucking his hands into his pockets as he went.

"Well," Ino started, dispelling the wave of tension, "as exciting as that all was… should we call it good and head out?" Reaching for the flower bouquet she had brought, the blond shifted in her seat.

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The late afternoon sun was pleasantly warm as they walked through the cemetery, their destination familiar in their minds.

"I think he'd really like the arrangement you made," Hinata spoke softly, pale eyes roaming over the vibrant array of blooms Ino carried in her hands.

Uncharacteristically subdued, the blond smiled gently in return, her blue eyes heavy with an unabated sorrow.

"I brought sake," Sakura chimed in as an attempt to lighten the mood, the bag in her hands clanking as it was raised closer to eye level. "I actually remembered the cups this time, although I have to say, passing the bottle around was kind of fun."

All four of them found their lips turning up at the corners as they reminisced upon the experience of tossing bottles of sake around and drinking straight out of them in a rather undignified manner.

Their feet led them to the particular grave, and each of them began to arrange what they had brought in a well rehearsed pattern.

Hinata spread out the enormous thin cotton blanket that was beginning to be a bit worn from its use. Each girl took their unspoken designated spot; the two brunettes settled side-by-side against the back of the tombstone, while Sakura and Ino took up positions leaning against opposite sides.

Tenten popped open the basket she'd brought, revealing neatly arranged rice balls.

As they passed out cups and rice balls, Ino voiced, "So, whose turn is it anyway? All I remember is that it was mine last time."

Silence prevailed for a moment as each woman settled in with a cup of sake and a rice ball in their hands, until after a thoughtful silence Sakura chimed "Mine, I think."

If asked, not one of them could pinpoint how or when it became tradition to swap stories when they visited his grave, but they always took turns.

Every occasion that they had a night to come to visit the grave together, one of them would put a voice to a fond memory they had with the deceased.

Ino delicately reached over to settle the flowers she had brought on the grave, patting it fondly once her hands were empty. "That's better."

They gave Sakura a moment to collect her thoughts as she sipped on the lukewarm sake, feeling the cool gravestone against her back and staring up at the gradually darkening evening sky.

"We had a mission to rescue a feudal lord's daughter that had been kidnapped. She was four years old, and by the time we got her back, absolutely terrified; for the longest time we couldn't even get her to talk. After we settled down for camp that night, I was on perimeter guard duty, and Neji was staying with her."

A fond expression crossed over Sakura's features, and she closed her eyes as the memory came back to life, digging a small hole into her chest. The warmth of the sake spreading through her system warmed that burrow to a small extent, but didn't abate the hollow ache.

"The little girl took a long, good look at him, plopped down on the ground and demanded that he braid her hair for her. It was the first words we'd heard her speak all day."

A chorus of laughter swept over them, and once it had passed, there was a pause to refill each of their cups.

"Poor Neji," Ino chuckled, a hand to her face in exasperation. "It could've been worse. She could have demanded to braid _his _hair."

At the offhanded comment, Sakura's failed attempt to mask her responding expression made Ino's jaw drop as she peered at her around the gravestone. "She _didn't_!" Ino exclaimed, her voice the epitome of astonishment and disbelief. "_He _didn't!"

"The poor girl was traumatized," Sakura admonished. "Honestly, how could anyone say no to that? He managed to produce a hairbrush, and did her hair in a meticulous braid. It just figures that Hyuuga Neji would use the same technical precision to braid a girl's hair as he would executing jutsu."

"I bet it was the neatest, tidiest braid the world's ever seen," Tenten remarked dryly but fondly, eliciting another subdued round of laughter.

"He was a good man." Sakura's voice was wistful, nostalgic, and four pairs of eyes began to feel suspiciously moist as they all turned their thoughts to reflect how true her statement was. "A great man. That little girl went to sleep with a smile on her face, with him sitting right by her side. I'd bet she'd never felt safer in her life."

Silent tears slid down a few sake-warmed cheeks. Sakura raised her cup, speaking softly, "He would've made a wonderful father one day. To Neji."

"To Neji," they replied in a chorus of feminine voices, downing the rest of their cups and remembering a warm smile below pale eyes framed by long, chocolate-brown hair.

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"Kakashi-sensei was right – they're at it again."

Despite her level of barely-retained consciousness, Sakura recognized Naruto's bright, warm voice. Even if it held a tone of censure, that could never disguise the blatant, unadulterated affection.

"Honestly, what are they thinking?" Kiba's voice was a bit piercing in contrast to Naruto's, more tinged with rebuke and exasperation. "If they're going to drink themselves into unconsciousness, the least they could do is wear some warmer clothes."

Choji let out a cry of pain as he stubbed his toe against the gravestone, trying to distinguish where Ino was sprawled out by the vibrant contrast of her hair against the fully darkened night sky. "Sorry, Neji," he mumbled.

Naruto tugged off his orange and black jacket, draping it around Hinata's sleeping form as Kiba drew near, arms crossed over his chest and Akamaru at his heels. Lee followed close behind, a faint smile twisted with amusement and warmth.

"You can't carry them both," Kiba commented dryly, solving the dilemma that Naruto was internally and silently struggling with. "I'll get Hinata home."

For a moment the blonde hesitated, reluctant to leave the dark-haired woman whose pale eyes were closed in an alcohol-induced slumber. But with a resigned sigh he shuffled to Sakura's side, unable to leave the graveyard without her.

"Up we go, Sakura-chan." His deep voice reverberated in Sakura's ears as Naruto gathered her into firm, warm arms and settled her head against his shoulder.

Mumbling something unintelligible against his broad chest and soaking up the inferno of heat projecting from it, Sakura continued to drift only partially in consciousness. If it hadn't been for the strong arms around her, she would've sworn it felt like her body was floating.

Sleepily, Sakura unintentionally maintained a tiny sliver of inebriated consciousness. She knew that Lee would carry Tenten home, Choji would likely take Ino, and Kiba probably already had Hinata in his arms.

The whoosh of air let her know that Naruto was rapidly moving, presumably flying across the rooftops of Konoha at a blurring speed.

Perfectly content to burrow against the intoxicating blend of muscle and softness, Sakura grumbled when suddenly the warmth was withdrawn and she was set down on a soft surface that felt suspiciously like her bed.

Despite her liquor-induced stupor, Naruto's dumbfounded grumbles and mutters as he tried to figure out how to unlatch the strappy sandals on her feet brought a lopsided smile to Sakura's face.

Eventually he managed to tug them off, tossing them over his shoulder in the general direction of her closet by the thumps they made. "Where the heck are your pajamas?" the perplexed blonde questioned rhetorically, scratching the back of his head.

The raucous chorus of noises that followed brought a sloppy grin to Sakura's face as she tried her best to maintain a sitting position on the bed.

It wasn't long before warm hands were tugging her much lighter body back onto its feet; the kunoichi, devoid of her characteristic coordination, stumbled but was kept in balance by settling against Naruto's warm chest.

With surprisingly deft hands, Naruto located the zipper on the back of her dress and pulled it down, gently tugging the garment off over Sakura's head. It was likely chucked somewhere on the floor as it was rapidly replaced by the soft, cotton jonin shirt that had been laying neatly folded on top of the dresser.

"This isn't mine," was the perplexed murmur as he helped work her slender arms through the generously sized sleeves, "it's too big to be mine or Sasuke's."

Letting out a gentle puff of air in a content sigh at the feel of the comfortable fabric against her skin, Sakura let the comment slide in one ear and out the other, hardly even registering it within her mind.

Chuckling, Naruto swooped her up into his arms again, moving the sparse few feet to the bed and tucking her into it with a degree of delicateness that few would have thought the exuberant young man to be capable of.

The alluring comfort of the freshly-washed sheets and soft down comforter allowed the pink-haired jonin to be perfectly at ease, capable of relinquishing the tiny sliver of consciousness that had been retained elsewhere.

"He wouldn't have wanted you guys crying in front of his grave, you know. If it was me buried under that stone, I'd want you to smile and laugh for me. I'm sure that Neji would feel the same."

His soft tone close to one ear was the last thing Sakura heard; an affectionate peck to her temple was the last thing she felt before finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

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Mission report firm in one fingerless-gloved hand, Yamato rapped his knuckles against the door to the Hokage's office as a polite precedence to his entrance.

An exhausted groan of presumed acquiesence muffled by the barrier between them met his ears, causing a furrow in his brow as the voice didn't sound like it belonged to the woman he had expected to be inside.

A dull thumping noise from within made him raise one brown eyebrow in curiosity.

Surely enough, when his sun-tanned hand pushed the door open, the Hokage's desk was strikingly vacant.

In contrast, another smaller desk pulled up beside it was strewn with a seemingly endless array of official documents. A bright splash of color stuck out amidst the mess, pink hair framing the forehead that was currently plunked against the desktop.

That would explain the thump he had heard; one exhausted albeit familiar teammate had slumped forward, causing a resounding noise when her head smacked the surface.

Approaching the far side of the room, Yamato waited for Sakura to raise her head and acknowledge him. When she didn't, he cleared his throat gently; recognition must have propelled her reaction.

Disheveled hair tumbled about her face as she raised it with a slowness that suggested an acute level of exhaustion, jade eyes gradually fixing themselves on his figure.

There were slight dustings of dark color beneath her eyelids, and the excessive sluggishness that accompanied every movement belayed her fatigue.

Those tired but perceptive green eyes passed quickly over the mission folder in one hand, but locked onto the contents of the other with an intensity so acute it almost erased the sleepy slant to her features.

Yamato felt a grin tugging at his mouth as Sakura's eyes widened in fixation at the paper cup with such unveiled interest and desire that it could probably make a man jealous of the caffeinated beverage.

Chuckling, his responding dimpled cheeks rubbing softly against the forehead protector that framed his face, the brown-haired man strode forward and set the cup down directly in front of her.

For a moment, all the petite and exhausted woman did was compete in a stare-down with the cup, nose twitching as the smell of its contents wafted towards her.

Then, slowly, Sakura raised her gaze to meet his, the hopeful and quizzical expression crossing her face more than enough to convey her question.

"I was trying it out on the recommendation of a friend. You look like you could use it more than me." Taking a few steps backward, Yamato signaled his relinquishment of the drink, suddenly wondering if she would have any reservations about its partially consumed status.

The responding warm and grateful smile quickly disappeared behind the beverage as it was lifted to her mouth, its contents experimentally tipped forward without any qualms. Yamato could only conclude that her taste-buds must have instantaneously rejoiced, because the tentative sip soon became consecutive gulps.

With a renewed vigor, Sakura plunked the beverage onto the desk. Perky aquamarine eyes rose to throw gratitude in his direction, but the moment was abruptly interrupted as a blur of yellow, orange and black flew into the room, stirring a breeze in its wake.

"Sakura-chaaaan," Naruto drew out in a sing-song voice, mischievous features searching her face for the after-effects of the sake.

Seemingly ignoring Yamato's presence – or, knowing him, oblivious for the moment as to the fact that they weren't alone – Naruto bounced around the desk on light feet, a ball of relentless energy.

"You gonna tell me whose shirt that was? Nice new panties, by the way," he added, narrowly avoiding the fist that rapidly came flying in his generally direction, swatting at him.

"Naruto!" Sakura chided dangerously as Yamato felt his dark, almond-shaped eyes widening at the implications of the statement. "Shut your mouth! Can you imagine what Hinata would think if she heard that? You can't _say _things like that without realizing what people will _assume_!"

A half hearted remorseful pout formed on his lips. "Awh, come on, nobody's gonna assume it's like that!"

Placed outside of the conversation as an abject observer, Yamato felt the temporary shock abate with the realization that the conclusion he had drawn had been too abrupt, devoid of the necessary regard for the innocent frame of mind that Naruto generally took on.

"Besides, I _am _a guy. I have eyes."

Well, not _entirely _innocent.

Sakura's second attempt to swat him was even less enthusiastic than her first, clearly lacking true intent to collide with him.

"So. You gonna tell me whose jonin shirt that was? It was a size too big to be mine. Or Sasuke's. Or Sai's."

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble," came the monotone reply, "but having a man's standard-issue shirt on my dresser doesn't mean I'm having a scandalous affair, Naruto."

"That's a shame, you could use - ow!" Not looking one bit remorseful, Naruto danced backward, catching the projectile pen that had smacked him square between the eyes.

Unable to contain his amusement at the display before him, Yamato laughed quietly as fondness passed over his face.

"Seriously, Naruto! Is that all you ever think about?" Sakura's disgruntled tone accompanied the ferocious blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Well, _someone _has to!"

Returning attention to the caffeinated drink on the desk, Sakura clenched it in a tight fist and downed a few more gulps of it.

As if only just noticing the other presence in the room, Naruto straightened with the pen tucked into one hand and blinked owlishly at the figure across from them. "Yo, Taichou!" The greeting was reminiscent of Kakashi, the accompanying mock-salute a mixture of their two personalities. "What brings you here?"

Approaching Sakura once again, Yamato laid the folder down on a relatively clean section of the desk. "Just turning in my mission report for Tsunade-sama," was his easy reply.

When he raised his gaze to meet the curious bright blue eyes peering at his figure, the elite jonin found himself wondering if Naruto was suddenly scrutinizing him and the width of his shoulders, mentally trying to discern if it was a size that would match the long-sleeved shirt in Sakura's room.

It didn't escape Yamato's memory that the night he had eaten dinner with Sakura, she had thrown his vest and shirt into the washer and it had been left there, forgotten.

But surely it would be far beyond anyone's imagination to assume the existence of a clandestine affair between the two of them?

Formulating an explanation became unnecessary as Naruto shrugged the matter off, clearly deciding that there was no plausible way that the garment could belong to the ANBU member standing in the room.

"Say, Sakura-chan, you're gonna help me with all of my paperwork when I take over as Hokage, right?"

The one-eighty shift in subject matter shouldn't have come as a shock to either of them, but as Yamato and Sakura's gazes met and a pair of feminine eyes rolled in mock exasperation, they exchanged their mutual amusement in silence.

As the optimistic question fueled a bout of one-sided bickering that failed to wipe the humor off of Naruto's expression, Yamato silently took his leave, an unbidden grin still capturing his lips and wondering when such a racket had become a familiar aspect of his life.

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Okay, seriously, Kishi? You are screwin' up my entire story! I suppose now that this fanfiction is slightly AU. Details below.

First, thanks sooo much to everyone who reviewed. I realize it's been horrendously long since I've updated, and I will never quit this fic! I know exactly where it's going and I've been embellishing a detailed outline. All of the reviews I've gotten in the meantime have been so encouraging.

I decided it would be a great idea to go to college full-time (writing intensive courses) and then volunteer to nanny my 7-month-old nephew forty hours a week starting at the end of January (suspiciously...coinciding with my last update ;) )

It was a great idea. I love that baby to death, and I can't think of a better way to spend my time. I just have no life to speak of now – and therefore have been struggling to find time to work on this.

Now... back to "plot".

**CURRENT MANGA SPOILERS – you've been warned!**

I seriously didn't read the manga at all until I heard that Neji died. He is one of my favorite characters, and I was so torn up about it that I suddenly started reading the manga because I had to see how it happened.

Sad is me.

SO. Who saw the final page of chapter 677 that was released yesterday? I pretty much shit a brick.

I say that this story is now a bit AU because the prologue will probably now be impossible, since the last page of chapter 677 shows Yamato free from his confinement and under Madara's control.

Should I go back and re-write the prologue once we figure out how his role in the war ends? Have Sakura save his life in some other method, if plausible? (Since that was an integral theme in my story...)

Talk about throwing a wrench into my plans, Kishi! Sure, sure, ignore Yamato for freakin' ages then all of the suddenly randomly pop him back in with no explanation.

Kill him and I go on strike!

Now, another incongruency – one that occurred in this chapter.

Kakashi.

SPOILER.

So, his sharingan eye has been ripped out and Naruto magically re-grew him a replacement for his "original" eye. Magical love-tap from Naruto ftw.

Therefore, Kakashi could not have used his mismatched eyes to intimidate the ass-hat chunin in this chapter.

I almost went back to change it, but since it happened in a fairly recent manga chapter, I decided to keep the spoilers at a minimum – in case anyone's already plotting to kill me for the Neji-bomb.

**END OF SPOILERS**

While there's less Yamato/Sakura time in this chapter, I felt that other characters needed some development in this story, otherwise it just wouldn't have the same Naruto feel to it.

Enter Sai, the girls, Kakashi, and Naruto.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews are always thoroughly appreciated.

I'm on vacation, so more to come soon!


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